


keep the faith

by adrianicsea



Series: rewards [1]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: AU- Peter Stayed With Caspian in Narnia, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And wonders a lot if that was the right choice to make, Everyone Is Gay, Family Drama, Fix-It, Gen, M/M, Trans Male Character, trans Edmund
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 23:32:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16983906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianicsea/pseuds/adrianicsea
Summary: A year and a half ago, Aslan offered Peter and Susan an opportunity. Peter took it when Susan did not, and he's wondered ever since if that was the right thing to do.





	keep the faith

**Author's Note:**

> What began as a desire to polish up "kings of the sun and stars," the ORIGINAL part one of the Rewards series, turned into an EXTENSIVE project that was too big to be considered a revision or even a rewrite anymore. In light of that, I've shunted the original piece off into its own entity, and now I'm replacing it with this one.
> 
> For those of you who weren't there for the original post, the Rewards series is a four-part series, each one written from the perspective of one of the Pevensies, in which each of them find the happy ending in Narnia that I feel they were meant to have all along. I don't think it's any secret that I'm not the biggest fan of how the series ends in canon, and especially of how it treats Susan. This series was started and developed with three goals in mind: 1) make all of the Pevensies some kind of LGBTQ+, 2) flesh out their characterizations and interactions, especially Susan's, 3) write the ideal middle ground for me between the books and the movies, particularly when it comes to Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I hope I was successful with at least one of those things!
> 
> As note 3 above implies, the canon of this series falls somewhere between the books and the movies, although it generally leans much closer to the movies.
> 
> Finally, I want to note that all characters are depicted in age-appropriate relationships, which means if you came here looking for Lucy kissing Tumnus or some such, kindly remove yourself from this page and never show your face here again.

            He’d been in Narnia for one year and six months.

            Well, by one possible count. One could just as easily argue that this was his sixteenth year in Narnia, or his one-thousand-three-hundred-and-sixteenth. But if anyone asked Peter himself, it was his first. Narnia had changed so much in his absence, both in geography and in population, that it might as well have been a new kingdom.

            And besides, Peter thought, smiling to himself as he leaned over the railing of their bedchamber’s balcony, being with Caspian made everything feel brand new.

            As if in response to his thought, Peter heard the balcony doors creak behind him. He didn’t need to turn his head; he recognized the way the footsteps fell as they came up behind him, the warmth of the hand that came to rest on the center of his back, the scent of pine oil and Telmarine spice as Caspian leaned in to kiss his cheek.

            “Peter, you should not be out here this late at night without an extra cloak,” Caspian chastised. He took his post standing next to Peter, wrapping his arm around Peter to envelop him within his own cloak. “Surely you can feel the chill in the air.”

            Peter laughed as he turned to face Caspian more fully.

            “You would be miserable in England, my love.”

            Caspian smiled down at Peter and leaned in to give him a proper kiss.

            “As would you,” he mumbled against Peter’s lips.

            Peter sighed in agreement and bundled up closer against Caspian. He doubted Caspian even knew how true that was.

            After a moment, Caspian pulled away and rested his head on top of Peter’s, nuzzling at his hair. Peter smiled and slid his arm around Caspian’s waist, his hand easily finding the notch of Caspian’s hip to rest there.

            “What are you doing out here?” Caspian asked softly. Peter could see the cloud of Caspian’s breath as he spoke, puffing out into the cold night air.

            “Just admiring the scenery,” Peter murmured back. He waved his free hand out over the railing, indicating the castle town laid out below him. They were still staying in the Castillo de los Telmarínes for the time being; recently, they had decided along with the newly-formed Narnian Council to begin rebuilding Cair Paravel, but it wouldn’t be hospitable for another year, at least. The night was quiet—Peter could make out a few torches and candles in the streets and windows below, but he didn’t see anybody walking around, apart from a few humans and wolves on guard patrol.

            “It is always like this in the wintertime,” Caspian said, and Peter smiled to himself—it was like Caspian could read his mind. “We Telmarines do not deal well with the cold…”

            “Don’t worry, _mi corazón.”_ Peter pulled Caspian closer and hugged him tight. “I’ll keep you warm.”

            Caspian grunted as he wriggled in Peter’s grasp, but he quickly started laughing. “Your accent still sounds _terrible._ What are those tutors teaching you?”

            “You weren’t complaining last night,” Peter observed, and then he groaned as Caspian drove a sharp elbow into his ribs, pushing him back from the railing.

            “Treason!” Peter cried out as he grappled back at Caspian, breathless laughter echoing across the night surrounding them as they twisted and shoved at each other. “The Star King of Narnia has turned against the Sun!”

            “Oh, hush.” Caspian caught hold of Peter and whirled him around to press him against the flagstone walls. “The Sun King of Narnia was asking for it.”

            As Peter caught his breath, the cold air nearly burning his lungs, he smiled and reached up one hand to caress Caspian’s face. The small silver wedding ring on his finger twinkled in the moonlight, glinting against both his and Caspian’s skin. Caspian smiled back down at him before taking Peter’s hand and holding it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to Peter’s palm.

            “Yes,” Peter agreed. “I suppose he was.”

* * *

 

            One year and six months ago, Aslan offered Peter and Susan a choice.

            It was the night before Caspian’s coronation, and as the festivities continued, the Great Lion beckoned Peter and Susan away from the party. Peter hesitated and turned to scan the crowd for Edmund and Lucy, only relaxing when he spotted the two of them with Trumpkin and Trufflehunter. Satisfied that his youngest siblings were in good hands (and paws), Peter fell into step alongside Susan, both of them trailing behind Aslan as he led them through the courtyards and hallways of the Castillo.

            “What do you think this is about?” Peter hissed to Susan as the two of them walked. If Aslan heard him, he made no indication of it—he simply kept walking ahead of the two of them, each step of his massive paws completely silent on the stone floors.

            Susan just looked back at Peter, and the depth of the sadness in her bright blue eyes almost stopped him in his tracks.

            “What do you _think?”_ was all she asked. Peter swallowed to himself as he turned his head forward to keep walking. He had a sinking feeling that he knew what Aslan had to tell them, but he stopped himself from considering that line of thought nearly as soon as he’d started.

            Finally, Aslan raised one paw to push open a door that stood before him, and he led Peter and Susan into what appeared to be a small library of some kind. The walls were lined with bookshelves, each one brimming with books and scrolls. A long, low table stretched down the center of the room like a spine, furnished with plush chairs. At the end of the room stood a grated fireplace, where a log quietly crackled to light and heat the room. There was a deep violet rug seated before the fireplace, and there Aslan came to rest, sitting back on his haunches as he finally turned his attention back to Peter and Susan.

            “Please,” he said, and he gestured a paw towards two of the chairs. “Both of you, take a seat.”

            Peter exchanged a look with Susan. She still looked just as sad and resigned as she had earlier, and Peter suppressed the urge to reach out to hug her; between the war in England and the Golden Age, they’d both had to grow up so fast. Susan didn’t like being treated as a little sister anymore. So instead, Peter sank into one of the reading chairs and folded his arms across his chest, his eyes flickering between Susan and Aslan.

            “What would you ask of us, sir?” Susan asked. Whatever personal turmoil she might have felt at that moment, Peter thought, she did a masterful job of hiding it. The moment Susan took her seat, she sat in it as though it were her old throne, her chin held high and her gaze clear as she regarded Aslan.

            “I have nothing more to ask of you, children,” Aslan said. He rumbled low in his chest, a sound that was almost-but-not-quite a laugh. His golden eyes glimmering in the firelight, he continued, “Both of you have served me well and done Narnia proud, here and always.”

            Peter pulled his arms tighter to himself.

            “Thank you, Aslan,” he said. “But—do you really mean that? We—” Peter glanced at Susan, and as she looked back at him, he saw again a flash of that awful sadness in her eyes. “—I doubted you for so long. If I’d just listened to Lucy—”

            Aslan rumbled again, more threatening this time.

            “It does not do to dwell on the past, Peter,” he said. “What matters is that both of you are here now.”

            Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but after a moment, he nodded instead and ducked his head.

            “That’s all very well,” Susan said, “but if you don’t need anything from us, sir, why have you summoned us away like this?”

            Aslan smiled at them then, his eyes crinkling fondly as his great mouth twitched just enough to show a hint of teeth. If Peter hadn’t seen the gesture so much the last time he was in Narnia, he would likely have mistaken it for a threat.

            “As I said, Susan, I have nothing more to ask of you or your brother. Instead, I have brought the two of you here to offer you a gift.”

            Peter’s brows drew together in confusion before he could stop them.

            “A gift?” he blurted, and Aslan laughed.

            “You sound surprised.”

            Peter felt his face heat with embarrassment.

            “That’s very generous of you, sir,” Susan said, as Peter tried to collect himself. “What manner of gift is it?”

            Aslan stood and stretched before the fireplace, and for just a moment, Peter thought he looked for all the world like a regular English housecat. Once he’d straightened up again, Aslan began ambling around the perimeter of the library.

            “Both of you have borne so many hardships in your lives,” he mused, walking as he spoke. “It would have been so easy for either of you to denounce and forsake me, or to flee your destinies, but here you stand before me in Narnia once more, children again despite the decades that weigh so heavy on your shoulders.”

            Peter turned in his chair to watch Aslan walk the room. Again, he wondered to himself what this was all about; perhaps it wouldn’t be as bad as he had imagined, but still, Aslan sounded awfully final. The Lion finished his lap around the room and resumed his seat at the fireplace.

            “When you and your siblings left Narnia, it was a pain felt so deeply that it drove me into hiding for centuries, and I feared you might never return. Now that dear Caspian has brought you back, I would not see you shriven from this land again.”

            For a long moment, Peter felt numb, Aslan’s words striking him in the heart.

            “Aslan, sir,” he began. “Do you mean to say that—”

            “We can stay?”

            Susan’s voice sounded raw and broken. Peter turned to look at her and was surprised to see tears brimming in her eyes, sparkling like jewels with the light of the fireplace.

            “You’ll let us stay here forever?” she asked. Aslan nodded, and then Susan sobbed aloud. Peter hadn’t seen her do that since the first time they were children, hiding in the bomb shelter back at home and wondering if the air raid happening outside would be their last. Without another thought, he bolted from his chair and came to Susan’s side to hug her tight.

            “Shh,” Peter murmured as he stroked Susan’s hair. “It’s okay, Su, everything is alright…”

            As Susan hugged Peter back, pressing her tear-stained face into his shoulder, he turned to face Aslan with his own eyes misty.

            “Please, Aslan,” he said. “Please tell us that you mean it, that this isn’t some awful joke…”

            “I mean it, Peter.”

            Peter buried his face in his sister’s hair and began crying, too. Gradually, he became aware of a soft heat surrounding him, and Peter looked up to find Aslan sitting before him and Susan, one great paw stretched around him in a hug.

            “Don’t cry, children,” Aslan said. Susan pulled away from Peter, red-faced and sniffling, and Aslan leaned in to lick her face clean. “All shall be well.”

            Susan nodded and offered Aslan a small, uncertain smile. Peter’s shoulders relaxed as he saw there was no hint of the earlier sadness in Susan’s eyes.

            “Thank you, Aslan,” she said. “Edmund and Lucy will be so thrilled to hear…”

            Peter spotted the change in Aslan’s countenance almost immediately. Aslan sighed through his nose as his gaze became pensive.

            “That is something we must discuss,” he said. “My offer extends only to you and to Peter.”

* * *

 

            After a bit more carousing on the balcony, Caspian finally managed to pull Peter into bed, citing the cold as the reason he snuggled up so closely against Peter between their sheets.

            “You’re like a leech,” Peter joked, smiling as he kissed Caspian’s forehead. Caspian shrugged in response, his eyes watching Peter with soft affection.

            “You are very warm,” Caspian replied. “And as I said, Telmarines do not like the cold.”

            “Oh, I’m sure that’s it.” Peter chuckled and held Caspian closer, one hand snaking up beneath his nightshirt to rub his back. Caspian arched against him in response with a hum of approval.

            “At any rate, I do not hear you complaining,” Caspian said.

Peter said nothing in response, only leaned in close to catch Caspian’s lips in a kiss. He lingered there for a moment before pulling away. Caspian gave a contented sigh and leaned forward to rest his head in the crook of Peter’s neck, his breath soft against Peter’s throat. They lay together like that, exchanging nuzzles and fond touches and kisses, for several minutes. Their bedchamber was dark and quiet; aside from the distant sound of the wind outside at their balcony, the only sounds were the low hiss and pop of their fireplace and the occasional chirp from Caspian’s falcon, asleep on its perch near the fire. Caspian stilled after a while, and Peter had just begun to think he’d fallen asleep when he felt Caspian’s lips graze his neck.

            “Peter?”

            “Yes, love?” Peter hugged Caspian close and nuzzled at his hair.

            “Do you think it will snow soon?”

            Peter shrugged.

            “Hard to say,” he murmured back. “After we defeated Jadis, I found it didn’t snow nearly as often in the wintertime.” He poked at Caspian’s ribs, and Caspian grumbled in response. “But that was over a millennium ago. With the geography changing so drastically, I shouldn’t be surprised if the climate has, too.”

            “Ah.”

            The disappointment in Caspian’s tone was audible, and as he lapsed into silence, Peter could practically hear him thinking. Sure enough, he spoke again a moment later.

            “I have never seen snow.”

            Peter frowned and pulled away from Caspian, just enough to look down at him.

            “Really?”

            Caspian blinked as he looked back up at Peter.

            “My professor once told me that the Castillo is in the snow shadow of the mountains to the west. Any snow that _does_ fall is blocked by the mountains, and so it never falls here.”

            Peter nodded in understanding.

            “Well, I’d say he was right about that.”

            Caspian sighed, and Peter leaned in to kiss his nose.

            “Don’t worry, Caspian. I’ll make sure you see snow this winter.”

            Caspian squirmed to lie on top of Peter’s chest. He propped himself up on his elbows as he gazed down at Peter.

            “How?” he asked with a grin. “I did not realize you could control the weather.”

            Peter laughed and shoved gently at Caspian.

            “Don’t be an ass. If it doesn’t snow here, we’ll just go north.”

            Caspian’s smile grew quieter, gentler, as he regarded Peter.

            “You would do that for me?”

            “Of course I would.” Peter leaned up to give Caspian another kiss. As he withdrew, he murmured, “Besides, I’d wager Ettinsmoor is overdue for a diplomatic visit from Narnia.”

            Caspian closed his eyes and lay down on top of Peter once again, his head resting above Peter’s heart.

            “I am blessed to have a husband like you,” he said, and even after six months, the word made Peter’s breath catch.

            “Not as blessed as I am to have one like you,” Peter said. He tucked the blankets closer around them and then wrapped his arms around Caspian’s waist to hold onto him.

            “Good night, Peter.” Caspian pressed a sleepy kiss to Peter’s nightshirt.

            “Good night, Caspian.” Peter smiled as he finally closed his eyes.

* * *

 

            “Why?” Susan asked, still holding onto Peter as she struggled to compose herself. “Why can’t Edmund and Lucy stay, too?”

            “There is still much they must learn in your own world,” Aslan explained, his voice slow and patient. “And they will guide others to Narnia in due time, as well.”

            “What?” Peter asked. “You’re saying that Ed and Lu will still come back to Narnia after they leave this time?”

            Aslan nodded. Seeing this, Susan finally pushed Peter away from her and sat up straight once more.

            “If that’s true, then you could have called the four of us back here whenever you wanted,” she said. “You didn’t _have_ to wait for Caspian to do it. All that time we spent in England, waiting and hoping to come back, trying to adjust to being children again…”

            Susan’s lip trembled for a moment before she collected herself.

            “I had finally just accepted that I was never going to return to Narnia. And only now do you offer me this?”

            Peter was stunned into silence by Susan’s words. It was true, they’d all had a hard time living in England and being kids again—that was something that he knew, or _thought_ he knew, better than any of his siblings. But Susan had weaved herself back into the tapestry of England so quietly and so easily, with so few tears spilled, that Peter had almost begun to think she hadn’t missed Narnia at all. Peter was still more surprised to see Aslan’s ears fold back as he lowered his head.

            “There are things that I cannot explain to you, dear Susan,” he said. “I must serve my father, the Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea, just as you must serve your own family.”

            Peter watched Susan’s gaze harden as she stared at Aslan.

            “What happens if we say no?” she asked. “If we choose to go home with Edmund and Lucy?”

            Aslan’s tail slowly lashed back and forth across the rug.

            “I cannot offer this gift to you again,” he said. “If you or Peter go home to England, you will not see Narnia again in your lifetime.”

            “Why?” Susan asked.

            “There are things that I cannot explain,” Aslan repeated. Susan scoffed at his words.

            “Of course.”

            “Susan,” Peter interjected. He stepped between her and Aslan and knelt on one knee, staring her in the eyes. “Please…”

            There was that sadness in Susan’s eyes again, only this time it was joined by a resolute anger that Peter had only ever seen before on the battlefield. Her face was unmoved as she stared back at him.

            “Aslan,” Peter said instead, and he turned to face the Lion. “Your offer is very generous, sir, but you’ve given us a lot to think about. Might Susan and I have some time alone to discuss the matter?”

            Aslan stood and nodded at Peter.

            “Of course, My King,” he said. “I shall be waiting outside this room when you are ready.”

            Peter and Susan watched as Aslan walked back down the length of the library to its entry. He pushed one door open and walked out into the hall, and as his tail disappeared through the doorway, it closed behind him as if by magic.

            “Alright, Su,” Peter said. He sighed and pulled up his chair closer to the fireplace. “What do you think?”

           

            “What do I _think?”_ Susan repeated. Peter winced as she tilted her head at him, her mouth pulled into a rare frown. “I think Aslan is a hypocrite, Peter, and I think he likes watching us suffer.”

            “I—” Peter didn’t trust himself to reply to that. Susan was _right_ , he thought, but he was afraid to say it aloud, because what if Aslan heard him? What if Aslan thought they were being ungrateful and revoked his offer?

            “Regardless of that,” Peter said instead, “what about this gift of his? Hypocrite or not, he’s still giving us the chance to stay here.”

            “Without Edmund and Lucy,” Susan pointed out, and Peter gave a deep sigh.

            “I know,” he mumbled, turning his gaze into the fire. The gravity of that wasn’t lost on him—how could it have been? He still remembered their mother holding him tight with tears in her eyes at the train station, begging him to take care of his siblings, as though it had happened just yesterday. But…

            “He _did_ say that they’ll still return here,” Peter said. “Perhaps he means to make the same offer to them the next time they come back.”

            “What if the time falls out of synchronization again?” Susan asked. Peter turned back to look at her, his nose wrinkling in confusion.

            “We returned to Narnia after one year of our time to find that over a thousand had passed here,” she explained. “If we stay, and Edmund and Lucy go back… Who’s to say they won’t return to find us nothing more than skeletons in some tomb somewhere?”

            Peter hunched over in his chair and clasped his hands in his lap. He stared at his fingers, clenching and unclenching them as he thought. He hadn’t considered that.

            “Besides,” Susan continued, “who would look after Ed and Lu if we stayed here? And what would our parents say if we suddenly disappeared without a trace?”

            “I understand,” Peter shot back. He bowed his head further and moved to run his hands through his hair, a gesture both thoughtful and frustrated.

            “You’re not _still_ thinking about this, are you?” Susan asked. “Surely you can’t be considering—”

            “Susan.” Peter raised his head and gave his sister a sad, weary look. Susan took in his expression and fell quiet.

            “I understand what you’re saying, truly. And I agree that there could be problems if we stayed. But if I went home, there would be problems for me, too.” He sighed, his shoulders drawing up closer around himself. “Or do you _want_ to read my name in the weekly arrests section of _The Times?”_

            Susan frowned and scooted her chair closer to Peter’s.

            “Peter, please,” she said. “I didn’t mean—”

            “If I go back, you know I’ll never be truly happy,” Peter confessed. He sniffed and folded his arms across his chest again. “I’ll have to spend my whole life in hiding, or else have a sham wedding…” He tilted his head as he looked at Susan. “I could be _free_ here.”

            Susan sighed and reached out her hand. Peter watched with trepid curiosity as she placed it on his shoulder.

            “I know,” she said.

            “And still you would ask me to return to England?”

            Susan gave a sad shrug.

            “Perhaps things will change. Perhaps there’s a place somewhere on Earth that will be kinder to you. And besides…” She squeezed Peter’s shoulder tighter. “What about Edmund?”

            Peter’s shoulders sagged as his eyes fell to the floor.

            “Don’t,” he mumbled. He couldn’t count the number of times back at home that he and Edmund had stayed up late into the night, discussing the future of England and their place in it. After all that had happened the first time they were children, Peter had tried to be a better brother to Edmund; he was the one who helped Edmund cut his hair after they fell out of the Wardrobe, and he was the one who argued the loudest in defense of Edmund when they finally went home and their parents saw his hair. That their parents actually gave in to their demands and moved Edmund to a new school, one that was co-educational instead of all girls, was a victory Peter held in nearly the same regard as his victory at the First Battle of Beruna.

            “Lucy and I love him just as much as you do,” Susan continued. “But I can’t understand him the way that you do…”

            “What is there to understand?” Peter asked. He looked back up at Susan and tilted his head. “He’s your brother, and that should be enough. Lucy was there for Edmund even before I was, and she was eleven then.”

            Susan sighed and released her grip on Peter, her hand dropping into her lap.

            “You know what I mean, Peter.”

            Peter swallowed as he looked at his sister. He understood Susan’s concerns, and they were all valid—but it seemed like she refused to understand his. Yes, he would feel guilty for leaving Edmund and Lucy to fend for themselves, but still, they were coming _back_. And Peter remembered the discussion he’d once had with Edmund: that if either of them ever got the chance to return to Narnia, they would do everything they could to stay there forever. Peter began to make up his mind.

            “Yes, I do know. Maybe it would be better if one of us stayed and the other left.”

* * *

 

            Peter awoke to a cold and empty bed. Instantly, he panicked, grabbing Caspian’s dagger from their nightstand as he threw back the blankets and stepped onto the carpeted floor.

            “Caspian?” he called. Peter surveyed the room, trying to get his bearings. He found that the room seemed undisturbed; the washbasin near their bed was still full, and a new log had been placed on the fire. The falcon’s perch was empty, though, and upon closer inspection, Peter realized their balcony door was slightly ajar. The cold seeped through the small gap like fingers and eagerly grazed Peter’s bare legs, prompting him to shiver. Aside from the cold, though, it seemed all was well. Peter replaced Caspian’s dagger on the nightstand and headed to their wardrobe to get dressed. He pulled on a simple pair of breeches and, after some deliberation, took one of Caspian’s tunics and tugged it on over his head. It was just a bit too big for him, the sleeves threatening to swallow his hands as the neck slid towards one shoulder, but Peter was only going to the balcony. Nobody would see him there. He took his hunting cloak from the wardrobe and wrapped it around himself before he finally headed to the balcony door.

            When Peter pushed the door open, he immediately squinted, dazzled by the light. Their bedchamber wasn’t dark, exactly, but what few windows it had were covered with thick curtains to keep out the cold. Still, Peter thought, it seemed brighter than usual outside—

            “Peter!”

            Before Peter could adjust to the light, or pursue his thoughts any further, he grunted as Caspian suddenly appeared, wearing his falconer’s glove, and pulled him into a tight hug.

            _“There_ you are,” Peter chuckled, still squinting as he looked up at Caspian’s smiling face. “When I woke up and my Telmarine leech was missing, I got worried…”

            “My apologies,” Caspian said, though his wide smile looked anything but apologetic. “Good morning, _mi corazón.”_ And he leaned down to kiss Peter hello, his lips soft and warm in the frosty air. Peter shivered with gratitude and returned the kiss.

            “Good morning,” he said, once Caspian had withdrawn. “What are you doing out here this early?”

            “You mean you do not know?” Caspian asked. His dark eyes shone, exuberant and innocent, and before Peter could answer the question, Caspian was ushering him towards the balcony railing. Only when they reached it did Peter’s eyes adjust, and he finally realized _why_ the world was so bright.

            A fine dusting of snow covered the roofs and streets of the town below, as well as the rolling plains beyond. It didn’t look very deep, only a few inches at best, but already, people were out enjoying the weather. Peter smiled to himself as he saw several children, human and faun, scampering about in the snow and throwing snowballs at one another.

            “I brought Aquila out here to fly him,” Caspian explained from over Peter’s shoulder, “and I was met with all of this. Isn’t it _wonderful,_ Peter?”

            Peter nodded as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the railing.

            “It’s beautiful,” he said, still smiling. “I didn’t expect it would snow so soon…”

            “Neither did I.” Peter felt the warmth of Caspian press up against his back, then arms wrapping around his waist. Caspian leaned forward to rest his head on Peter’s shoulder, his chin poking Peter at the junction of his neck.

            “Do you think we will have time to go outside later?” Caspian asked. Peter turned to give him a quizzical look.

            “Caspian, we’re the kings of Narnia.”

            “Your point?”

            Peter laughed and reached to muss up Caspian’s still-formidable bedhead.

            “If we want to take a day off, I don’t think anyone is going to stop us.”

            Peter felt the answering hum of Caspian’s chuckle reverberate along his spine.

            “This is true,” Caspian agreed. “Although I must say, I did not expect High King Peter the Magnificent to be so lazy.”

            Peter shrugged and leaned his head over to rest it against Caspian’s.

            “Well, _you’re_ the real king now, aren’t you? I’m just the fool who married you.”

            “True,” Caspian repeated. He planted a sloppy kiss on Peter’s temple with a _smack!_ before releasing him to stand up straight again. Peter groaned as he wiped at his face, but he still wore a wide smile as he turned around to look back at Caspian. Caspian smirked at Peter, before sticking his fingers in his mouth to whistle. There came a distant screech in response, and as Peter watched, Caspian stepped up to the railing and extended his gloved arm out over it. In only a few seconds, Aquila landed on the glove with a trill and began grooming his feathers.

            _“Buenos días, Aquila,”_ Caspian cooed, reaching to pet the falcon’s head with his free hand. _“Como había tu vuelo?”_

            As Aquila chirped in response, Caspian drew his arm back against his chest.

            “I am going to put Aquila up and get dressed,” he said to Peter. “You should come inside and do the same. It is much too cold for you to be outside wearing—” Caspian paused and squinted as he studied Peter’s attire. “—is that _my_ tunic?”

            Peter smirked back at Caspian and quirked an eyebrow.

            “Perhaps.”

            He stepped up to link arms with Caspian and began walking alongside him back into their bedchamber.

* * *

 

            Susan stared at Peter as though he’d just slapped her. For what felt like ages, she just sat there, opening and closing her mouth again and again, until Peter could no longer take the sight of her face. He stood and walked over to the crackling fireplace, where he stood staring into the flames.

            “You can’t be serious,” she finally said. “You can’t mean to send the rest of us back without you…”

            “The way I see it, you’re the ones who’ll have it easy, not me,” Peter retorted. “You’ll all have each other to rely on, while I’m going to be here all alone…”

            Peter heard Susan scoff behind him.

            “Yes, of your own volition!” He heard the soft scuffle of Susan’s chair against the floor as she stood up, too. “You make it sound like you’re being forced to stay, Peter. You can’t even face me to say it.”

            Peter swallowed and gritted his teeth before he turned on his heel to face Susan.

            “I’m staying here,” he said, injecting every bit of commanding ice he’d ever learned into his voice. “Whether you decide to stay with me or not.”

            Susan’s lip trembled, and her expression faltered, but she reined it in just as quickly as she had before.

            “Very well,” she said. “If you truly believe _Caspian_ is worth more than your family, I won’t stop you.”

            Peter winced. While it was true that he and Caspian hadn’t been particularly subtle about their feelings for each other, once they got past all the headbutting and arguing, having it thrown in his face by Susan hurt like she’d cut him.

            “Look, just because he wasn’t interested in _you—”_

            The words were out of Peter’s mouth before he could stop himself. For the second time in as many minutes, Susan looked stunned, and Peter immediately hated himself for hurting his sister so deeply.

            “Don’t be crass,” Susan admonished, but her eyes were cracked open with grief as she stared at Peter. “I wish you all the best with him.”

            She turned to face the library entrance. Peter hurried to her side to place a hand on her shoulder.

            “Susan—”

            Susan lifted Peter’s hand and removed it from herself, dropping it into the empty air. She didn’t look at him.

            “I’ll inform Aslan of our decision,” she said. “Shall I tell Edmund and Lucy, as well?”

            “I…” Peter clenched his hands at his sides and lowered his head to stare at the floor. “No. I’ll tell them.”

            “Very well,” Susan said again. She began gliding out of the room, her chin held high. Peter raised his head just enough to watch her go, and he noticed her shoulders shaking with dammed-up tears.

* * *

 

            After breakfast, the two of them were cornered by Trumpkin and Glenstorm and herded into a morning Council meeting. Pattertwig appeared on behalf of the woodland Narnians, expressing his concern over the food stores lasting the winter, to which Caspian replied that the Castillo would remain open to provide food for anyone who needed it. Peter was content to let Caspian lead, although he privately thought Pattertwig was worrying over nothing—after all, they’d survived living in the woods without assistance for centuries. After Pattertwig was sufficiently reassured, the topic switched to the status of the Cair Paravel restoration project. Here, Peter did speak up; after all, he _had_ lived there for fifteen years, and there were a lot of errors and misconceptions that he needed to clear up for the Council.

            All told, it took three hours for the Council to conclude its business and adjourn. No sooner were they released than Caspian began heading towards the Royal Armory, moving as quickly as he could without breaking into a full run.

            “You know,” Peter said as he trailed alongside Caspian, “it’s not very dignified, the Star King rushing out from a Council meeting just so he can go play in the snow.”

            “Perhaps not the Star King,” Caspian agreed, not breaking his stride, “but what about a Telmarine boy who has never seen snow before?”

            Peter laughed.

            “Well, I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

            Caspian turned then into the armory, and Peter followed him through the doorway. There was a weapons rack and a chest at the head of the room with the royal Telmarine insignia on it. Caspian stepped forward to the chest and threw it open to dig inside it. After a moment, he produced a leather cuirass and some accompanying gloves. He slipped into the cuirass first, donning it atop his tunic, and then tugged on the gloves.

            “I have spares in here, if you would like,” Caspian said with a nod towards the trunk. “They will probably be a bit big on you, but it will be better than nothing.”

            “They’ll be perfect, Caspian.” Peter stepped forward and leaned up on his toes to kiss the corner of Caspian’s mouth. The only armor of his own that Peter had around the Castillo was what they’d managed to recover from the old vault at Cair Paravel, and most of _that_ was heavy dwarven steel, suited more for war and decorated appearances than for a jaunt in the woods. So he leaned over the chest and removed another cuirass to slide it on over his head. It was, indeed, a bit large for him, but it still hugged him tightly enough to do its job as armor. The leather was a deep burnished chocolate color that reminded Peter somewhat of Caspian’s eyes. After a bit more scrounging through the contents of the trunk, Peter finally managed to find another matching pair of gloves. He pulled them on and turned to nod at Caspian with a smile.

            “Ready?” he asked.

            “Ready,” Caspian answered. “Do you think we should bring Aquila with us?”

            Peter shrugged. “Up to you,” he said. “Though I must say, if I were a bird, I think I’d rather stay inside where the air is warm.”

            Caspian hummed.

            “Perhaps you are right.”

            He turned on his heel, his cloak flourishing behind him, and exited the armory. Peter was only a few steps behind him.

* * *

 

            When Peter stepped out of the library, Aslan was still sitting at the doorway, his tail sweeping slowly back and forth across the flagstone floors.

            “Hello again, My King,” Aslan said. His voice carried no hint of his emotions, nor did his expression; his cat’s eyes just stared at Peter, deep and piercing. Peter couldn’t stop himself from tensing up under his gaze.

            “Hello, Aslan.” Peter breathed a deep sigh. “I suppose Susan already told you of our decision?”

            Aslan nodded.

            “She did, indeed,” he said. Then, he stood and tossed his head in the direction of the hallway from whence they’d came. “Walk with me?”

            It would be foolish to refuse. Peter fell into step next to Aslan as they began making their way back down the hallway. The music and laughter of the festivities could be faintly heard echoing down the halls, although the only sound Peter was conscious of was the scrape and tap of his own boots against the floor.

            “I know this is difficult for you,” Aslan said. “Oftentimes, we find that the things we want do not come without a cost.”

            Peter was quiet as he considered that. Susan’s eyes blazed again in his head, as blue and cold as the skies over Ettinsmoor.

            “Did I make the wrong choice, sir?” he asked. “Am I supposed to go back to England after all?”

            “I cannot tell you what is right or wrong for you, Peter,” Aslan said. “All I can say is that it can be difficult to follow your heart.”

            Peter gave a humorless scoff.

            “I feel like each half of my heart is leading me someplace different.”

            Aslan nodded and rumbled deep in his throat.

            “Yes. That is how it can feel sometimes, especially as we grow older. I understand what you mean.”

            “You do?”

            Aslan turned his head back to look at Peter, and suddenly, his golden eyes were very sad.

            “I knew in my heart that I had to travel to the Stone Table, but that did not make me any less afraid of it.”

            Peter simply nodded in reply. He wasn’t sure what else to say.

            “What I mean, Peter,” Aslan continued, “is that sometimes, the right thing can feel like the wrong thing. All we can do when that happens is wait for time to make it clear.”

            The mention of time stirred something in Peter’s memory.

            “Thank you, Aslan,” he said. “Speaking of time, Susan mentioned—when Lu and Ed return to Narnia, what if the time has fallen out of joint?”

            Aslan rumbled again, and Peter got the sense that it was more akin to laughter this time.

            “Are you worried that your siblings will return to find you wizened and sere?”

            Peter flushed as he nodded.

            “Y-yes—well, it’s just, I don’t want them to come back to find Caspian and me dea—”

            “Worry not, Peter.” Aslan shook out his mane as they walked. “Even I cannot control the flux of time in Narnia, but I shall do my best to make sure Edmund and Lucy return to find you as old as you would be in England.”

            “Thank you, sir,” Peter said again. Then, suddenly, he became aware of the noise surrounding him, and he realized they were very nearly back in the courtyard.

            “You are welcome, My King.” Aslan raised a paw to gesture out towards the courtyard, where it seemed the party was only getting started. “But enough of this grave discussion for now. Go and make merry—and share the news of your decision with young Caspian, why don’t you?”

            Peter managed a chuckle as he stepped forward towards the party, even as he felt his face flushing hotter.

            “Yes, I suppose I’d better.”

* * *

 

            The forests of Lantern Waste were hushed as Peter and Caspian rode through them, their horses moving at a leisurely trot along the main road. The boughs of the trees surrounding them bent low beneath the weight of the snow, giving the wood a further atmosphere of quiet isolation.

            “It is incredible,” Caspian murmured, his eyes fixed firmly on the trees. “It is like the snow eats up all the sounds of the forest…”

            “Well, I imagine most of the woodland creatures are resting right now,” Peter answered with a smile. “But you’re right, the snow always does make things awfully quiet…”

            Caspian smiled and returned his attention forward. He gently spurred Destrier on to continue down the road. As Peter followed suit, he remained quiet, simply studying the woods around them.

            “Caspian, do you know where we are?” Peter asked, a few yards later.

            “Is that a trick question?” Caspian laughed. “We are in the woods west of the Castillo de los Telmarínes, in Lantern Waste, which marks the western border of the kingdom of Narnia.”

            “Yes,” Peter replied, “but do you _know?”_

            Caspian said nothing, and then he suddenly turned to Peter with wide eyes.

            “Oh, _Peter,”_ he said, his voice soft. “I did not realize…”

            Peter smiled and guided his horse closer to Caspian and Destrier, until he was close enough to lean over and kiss Caspian’s cheek.

            “It’s alright,” he said. “I didn’t think you had.”

            Caspian gave Peter a quick smile, and then he was back to surveying the snowy forest, although his expression was much more contemplative now.

            “Did it look like this when you first arrived here?” Caspian asked. “The legends say the four of you arrived in the dead of winter…”

            “Yes, we did,” Peter answered. “Although the first time or two, it was just Lucy and Edmund…” He smiled as he remembered. “To tell you the truth, Susan and I thought Lucy was lying about Narnia until we saw it for ourselves.”

            “Really?” Caspian asked. “Why?”

            “Well, think about it. If you came from a world without magic, or talking animals, and someone told you there was a gigantic winter forest in the back of a wardrobe, would _you_ believe them?”

            Caspian shook his head with a sheepish smile.

            “I suppose not,” he admitted.

            Silence fell between them then as they continued riding along the road. As Peter studied the trees around them, he gradually began to remember where they were, and almost without realizing it, he urged his horse forward to take the lead.

            “Peter, where are you going?” Caspian asked. “You are wandering from the road.”

            Peter turned back to raise an eyebrow at Caspian.

            “Do you want to see the lamppost?”

            At his question, Caspian looked so eager and excited that Peter was fairly worried he’d fall off of Destrier.

            _“Can I?”_

            Peter laughed.

            “Of course you can, my love. Follow me. It’s not far from here.”

            Caspian led Destrier into step with Peter’s horse, and Peter took them deeper into the woods. The going was slower there; neither of the horses were used to snow, and away from the main road, there were low-hanging branches and thickets on the ground with which to contend. It was a quiet few minutes, and Peter thought he would have felt frustrated if it weren’t for the beauty of the snow and the nostalgic ache it spurred in his chest.

            Finally, after what felt like far too long, the bramble broke, and Peter led them into a clearing. At the center of it stood the lamppost, and when his eyes landed on it, Peter stopped his horse and felt a jolt of pain course through him.

            The lamppost looked just as it had that year ago, that millennium ago, that _lifetime_ ago; inside the glass panes of the lamp, a flame danced and flickered cheerfully among the snow, throwing a soft orange glow in a sputtering circle around the cast-iron post. Peter was powerless to rip his eyes away from it, but he felt the presence of Caspian and Destrier come to rest next to him.

            “Peter,” Caspian whispered, “it is beautiful. Does it look as you remember it?”

            “Yes,” Peter answered. His felt his staring eyes begin to well with tears. “It all looks exactly the same.”

            “All this time, I never realized it was so close to the Castillo,” Peter heard Caspian muse. “To think that I was this close to you all along…”

            Peter managed to blink back his tears, and with a sigh that rattled in his chest, he turned and gave Caspian a small smile.

            “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get closer.” And he slid off his horse and hung her reins in a nearby branch, before reaching out to offer his hand to Caspian. Caspian took it and neatly dismounted, and after securing Destrier’s reins as well, he wound his gloved fingers between Peter’s and took the first step towards the lamppost. Their every footstep crunched in the snow as they made their way closer, the lamppost stretching taller and taller before them. When they finally reached it, Caspian dropped Peter’s hand and removed one of his gloves to reach out and touch the lamppost.

            “How does it burn?” Caspian asked, as he craned his neck back to study the flame burning within the glass.

            “Magic,” Peter replied. When Caspian looked back down at him, head tilted, Peter shrugged and offered him a smile.

            “The lamppost is older than I ever was, Caspian. It stood burning to welcome Lucy, all those years ago… We always just accepted it.”

            Caspian nodded as he replaced his glove.

            “It is beautiful,” Caspian said again. Peter’s eyes lingered on the lamppost, and then he turned to study Caspian’s face. His eyes twinkled like stars in the fireglow of the lamp, and his breath made little clouds in the frosty air.

            “Yes,” Peter agreed. “It is.”

            Caspian smiled at Peter before returning his attention to the lamppost. Peter looked back at it too. He watched the fire’s cheerful dance in the lamp, and he tried unsuccessfully not to think about his siblings.

* * *

 

            Peter found Lucy leading Trufflehunter in a dance around the courtyard. She appeared to be having a grand time, despite Trufflehunter’s grumbled protests as he hurried to move his paws in time with her feet. Edmund and Trumpkin sat together at a nearby table watching the spectacle, each of them holding a tankard of Narnian ale. There was no sign of Susan or Caspian. As much as Peter wanted to find Caspian and talk to him right away, he approached his siblings instead—after all, he thought, this would be their last night together for quite some time.

            “You know you’re much too young to be drinking, Ed,” Peter admonished. He sat down in the chair next to Edmund’s and crossed his arms to give Edmund a glare.

            “Oh, puh-lease.” Edmund rolled his eyes at Peter, and Peter couldn’t hold his dour expression any longer. “Didn’t you know I’m twenty-eight years old?”

            “The boy’s got more tolerance than you’d think, Your Majesty,” Trumpkin cut in. “Besides, he _did_ just help topple a dictatorship and win a war.”

            “Well…” Peter hummed and pretended to consider that as he regarded Edmund. Edmund stared back at him with a steely gaze, and finally, Peter laughed and reached over to ruffle his hair. “Alright, then. But only one more, okay? And you’d better not let Lucy have any.”

            “Don’t worry,” Edmund said. “She’s been much too busy dancing and showing off her knife-throwing to drink.”

            Peter smiled as he watched Lucy continue her dance with Trufflehunter. Just when the Badger finally seemed to have found his footing, Lucy suddenly dipped him. He let out a very surprised and undignified sort of chittering noise, which only made Lucy laugh.

            “Typical Lucy,” Peter said, his voice soft and fond.

            For a moment, silence hung between their little group, and then Trumpkin stood with his tankard in hand.

            “Reckon I’ll leave you lot alone for awhile,” he said. “I need to go make sure that ass of a Mouse isn’t making a nuisance of himself.”

            He was gone before Peter could protest. As Lucy and Trufflehunter continued their dance, Edmund turned his head to squint at Peter.

            “So, Pete,” he started. “What did Aslan want?”

            At the mere mention of Aslan’s name, Peter sighed and felt his delicate good mood slip away again.

            “I saw Susan skulk off towards the ramparts a few minutes ago,” Edmund continued. “It wasn’t good news, was it?”

            “Well…” Peter chewed his lip as he considered how best to proceed. “It’s a bit complicated.”

            “It always is, isn’t it?” Edmund sighed too and took a thoughtful sip of his ale.

            Peter thought for a moment longer. With Edmund, it was never wise to try and sugarcoat things; his sense of intuition was far too uncanny for that. It would be best simply to come right out with it. No matter how he reacted, it would only be worse if he felt he was being led on or lied to. Still, Peter thought, there was nothing stopping him from delivering the good news first.

            “Aslan said that you and Lucy are going to come back to Narnia again in the future.”

            Edmund wasn’t taken in even for a moment.

            “Coming back?” he repeated. “So… what? We’re being cast out _again?”_

            Peter nodded as he watched Edmund. Edmund looked more angry than sad, but even more than that, he looked confused.

            “When?”

            Peter shrugged.

            “Tomorrow, I think. Aslan didn’t say it outright, but he made it sound like it would be very soon.”

            “By the _Mane,”_ Edmund grumbled into his tankard. He took another drink of his ale, a much longer one this time. After he set his tankard back down on the table, he said, “At least we’re coming back, I suppose.”

            “Yes,” Peter quickly agreed, and he leaned over to nudge his shoulder against Edmund’s. “You’ll be back.”

            Edmund was quiet for a moment, his freckled brow furrowed, and Peter could see the gears turning in his head.

            “Wait a second,” he said. “You said Lu and I are coming back. Then you and Susan are…?”

            Sometimes Peter wished his brother wasn’t so dreadfully smart.

            “Aslan took us aside to offer us a choice,” Peter said. “He told us that if we chose to go back to England tomorrow, we could never come back to Narnia again—”

            “—Or you could stay here,” Edmund interrupted. Peter bit at his lip again and nodded.

            “Yes.”

            For a long time, then, both of them were quiet. Edmund finished off his ale, and Peter sat picking at the skin around his fingernails, wishing he’d had the sense to get a drink of his own.

            “Susan decided to go back to England,” Peter offered, when the silence had stretched on too long for his liking. Edmund nodded; it seemed that information wasn’t terribly surprising to him.

            “I don’t suppose I have to ask what _you_ decided,” Edmund replied. His voice was low and beginning to slur around the edges. He didn’t look at Peter as he spoke.

            “I… It’s like we talked about, Ed,” Peter tried. “You would have done the same thing, and you are coming _back—”_

            Edmund raised a hand, small and pale, and Peter fell quiet.

            “I get it,” was all he said. He swallowed, his shoulders drawn up near his ears, and then he straightened up all at once and turned to look at Peter. Smiling wide, he clapped his hand on Peter’s shoulder.

            “We’d better make tonight count, then.”

            As much as Peter wanted to protest, to reach out and hug his brother and tell him it was okay to cry or be angry, he knew that he couldn’t. Edmund’s smile was so fragile, Peter could tell it would shatter at the slightest touch. So instead, Peter just smiled and nodded back at him.

            “Yes, I guess we better had.”

            Edmund looked as though he was about to say something else, but then he got a curious look of fear in his eyes as he stared at something behind Peter. Peter had just begun to turn around when he grunted at the warm, sudden impact of a body colliding against his.

            “You boys look awfully serious,” Lucy said, as she put Peter in a headlock with one arm and ground her knuckles against his scalp with the other. “Didn’t anyone tell you this is a party?”

            Edmund and Peter exchanged looks, and at the expectant raise of Edmund’s eyebrow, Peter sighed and twisted in Lucy’s grip to look at her.

            “Lu, I think you’d better sit down,” Peter said, his voice quiet.

* * *

 

            They stayed at the lamppost for another half hour before Peter could no longer bear the pain of his memories. He did his best to shore up his feelings with a valiant smile and a lame comment about the cold getting to him. Caspian seemed to believe him—if he _was_ suspicious of Peter’s quiet mood, he didn’t say anything about it. So the two of them remounted their horses and began the ride back to the Castillo; it was still barely noon, but Peter was eager to be back there, where everything was new and unfamiliar and reminded him only of Caspian.

            “What sort of wintertime traditions did you have back in England?” Caspian asked as their horses trotted along. “Or in ancient Narnia?”

            Caspian’s question was innocent, Peter knew, but still, he couldn’t help resenting it for making him think even more about the old times.

            “Well, we used to make snow angels when we were young,” Peter said. He willed himself to say the words without dwelling on them, without conjuring up the memories of helping little Lucy into her mittens.

            “Snow… angels?” Caspian tilted his head. “What is an angel?”

            Of all the things Peter had expected Caspian to say, that hadn’t been on the list at all. It shocked him right out of his ruminations.

            “What?”

            “What is an angel?” Caspian repeated, and Peter finally realized—during the Golden Age, there had been no concept of angels or anything like them in Narnian mythology. Apparently, that was still the case.

            “Oh! You see,” Peter said, “Angels are a kind of spirit from my world. They usually look like humans with wings.”

            “I see,” Caspian said. “And how do you make snow angels, then?”

            Peter tugged at his horse’s reins, bringing her to a pause in the road.

            “I can show you now, if you want,” Peter said. “But you’ll have to get off your horse.”

            A gleam of curiosity lit in Caspian’s eyes. He tugged at Destrier’s reins to bring him to a halt, and then he slid off of his saddle to stand in the road. Once Peter had done the same, he took Caspian by the hand and led him to a snow bank near the road. Peter spun Caspian so his back was to the snow, and as he stared up at Caspian, he asked, “Do you trust me?”

            “Yes,” Caspian answered right away. Peter grinned and shoved him backwards into the snow. Caspian went down with a yelp, landing spread-eagle in the bank. He made no effort to get up, but instead gave Peter a wounded look from where he lay.

            “What was that for?” Caspian asked. Peter laughed and threw himself back into the snow next to Caspian.

            “This is how you make a snow angel,” Peter explained. “First you lay in the snow, then you just wave your arms and legs back and forth like this…”

            As Peter raised his arms over his head, he saw Caspian raise up from the snow just enough to watch him.

            “That is all?” Caspian asked.

            “That’s all.”

            Caspian appeared to consider this for a moment, and then he nodded and lay back down in the snow to join Peter in his efforts. Peter only kept at it for a few more seconds; warm as his armor was, it wasn’t quite waterproof, and he could feel the cold and damp of the snow starting to leech into his back. With a groan, Peter collected himself and stood. After dusting the snow off of himself, he turned back to face the snow bank. Caspian had stilled as well, though he still lay in the snow, his face flushed pink with the cold as he stared up at Peter.

            “Now what?” Caspian asked.

            “Now you get up,” Peter said. He stepped forward and extended a hand to Caspian, which Caspian gladly took. Once Caspian was back on his feet and cleared of snow, he and Peter regarded their snow angels.

            “Is that what they are supposed to look like?” Caspian asked. Peter nodded and squeezed his hand.

            “Yes, darling, they look perfect.”

            Two silhouettes sprawled across the snow, each of them with the impressions of wings and robes. At the very tip of their wings, the two shadows nearly touched each other, where Peter and Caspian’s fingers had brushed together in the snow. Peter noticed Caspian smiling from the corner of his eye.

            “It is funny,” Caspian murmured. “I never thought something so simple could make me so happy.”

            “Sometimes the simplest pleasures are the best ones, Caspian.”

            Peter gave the angels one last lingering look. Suddenly, he saw Susan and Edmund in the snow, laughing and staring up at him, and he turned away and dropped Caspian’s hand.

            “Peter?”

            Caspian frowned and placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter was quick to shake his head and offer Caspian a bright smile.

            “I’m alright, it’s just getting cold out. We’d better get back to the Castillo.”

            Peter climbed back onto his horse before Caspian could say anything more. Caspian mounted Destrier in silence, and the two of them continued on their way. Peter pretended he couldn’t feel Caspian’s eyes on him as they rode.

* * *

 

            Lucy was uncharacteristically quiet as Peter explained the situation to her, balancing seated on his knee. When his explanation was concluded, she was silent, and then she asked, “So we’re leaving without you tomorrow?”

            “Yes,” Peter answered, and he wrapped an arm around her back. “I’m afraid so.”

            Unlike her siblings, Lucy had never had a problem with crying. She stared at Peter, her eyes swimming with tears, and then she pitched her head forward into his chest with a sob.

            “I’m going to m-miss you so much,” she cried. Peter sniffled himself and hugged Lucy tighter. He felt her tiny hands clench at his tunic, and that was nearly enough to undo him, too.

            “I’m going to miss you too, Lu,” Peter whispered. He tilted his head forward to rest it against Lucy’s and closed his eyes to hold back his tears. “It won’t be forever, I’ll see you again…”

            “I-I know,” Lucy said, “but that d-doesn’t make it any easier.”

            “I know,” Peter said back. He felt himself beginning to tremble with his unshed tears, and then Lucy squeezed him in a hug.

            “You can cry, too, Peter,” Lucy whispered.

            And Peter did. He held his baby sister and wept into her shoulder, adrift in all his memories of the lifetimes they’d spent together. It seemed only yesterday that he was teaching Lucy to tie her shoes before her first day of school, or that the two of them were working in the orchard at Cair Paravel, trading stories and jokes as they picked apples together.

            Suddenly, Peter felt a weight settle on him. He looked up and hastily wiped his eyes with his free hand to find Edmund standing there, his gangly arms wrapped around Peter and Lucy in a hug.

            “We love you, Pete,” Edmund said. His voice sounded rough and hoarse, and Peter knew he was trying not to break down crying himself.

            “I love you, too.” Peter reached out to pull Edmund closer against him. It was an awkward and messy affair, trying to maneuver around Lucy in his lap, and it made Peter laugh despite himself. “Both of you, more than anything.”

            For a moment, they all remained in that big, emotional pile, each of them struggling to collect themselves. Finally, Lucy’s sobs quieted to sniffles, and she raised her head to offer Peter a small attempt at a smile.

            “Can we all have breakfast tomorrow morning? Us and Susan and Caspian?”

            Peter nodded and smiled back at Lucy. After wiping at his eyes once more, he raised his hand to tousle her hair, which actually made her laugh.

            “Of course we can, Lulu. I wouldn’t settle for anything less.”

            Lucy sniffled and nodded back at Peter, her smile stretching wider at the use of her old childhood nickname. Edmund wriggled out of Peter’s grasp, and Lucy slid off of his knee, too. She straightened up her dress, and then turned towards the courtyard staircase with a purposeful look in her eyes.

            “I’m going to go look for Susan,” she said. “She shouldn’t be all alone right now.”

            And off she went, her head held high even as the tear tracks on her cheeks showed in the firelight. Edmund jerked his thumb in the direction she had gone and said to Peter, “I think I’m going to go look for Su, too.”

            Peter nodded and stood from his chair.

            “That’s a good idea,” he said.

            “Sure you don’t want to come?” Edmund asked. Peter sighed and shook his head.

            “I don’t think she would want to see me right now,” he said. “I’ll see her at breakfast tomorrow.”

            Edmund’s expression was one of sad understanding. He clapped Peter on the shoulder one last time before turning to go himself.

            Left all alone at the table, Peter gave another sigh and took a moment to collect himself. He turned his head to the skies just as a rocket launched upwards and exploded in a sea of dazzling golden stars. He vaguely wondered when fireworks had been invented in Narnia; there was certainly no such thing in the Golden Age. Perhaps he could ask Caspian—

            _Caspian_. Peter still needed to talk to him, too. The thought of explaining everything for the third time in one night was one that Peter dreaded, but at least it would be good news to Caspian’s ears. Still, he had all night for that, and he needed some time to himself to think. Peter made no movement from his place in the corner of the courtyard, watching the fireworks all by himself.

* * *

 

            “Peter, are you _sure_ there is nothing bothering you?”

            The question came at the conclusion of the afternoon Council meeting, as Peter and Caspian retired to their bedchamber. Normally, they might go out to visit the townsfolk, or train, or do any number of things, but Peter found he didn’t feel much like being outside anymore.

            “I’m just cold,” Peter insisted. He turned to give Caspian a smile as he began shedding his elegant court clothes for the simpler shirt and breeches beneath. “And tired…”

            Caspian frowned and stepped forward to rest the back of his hand against Peter’s forehead.

            “You are not getting sick, are you?” he asked. “Perhaps you should stay in bed this evening. I can tell one of the attendants to bring your dinner up here—”

            “Thank you, love, but I think I’m alright.” Peter gently took Caspian’s hand by the wrist and lowered it from his face. “If anything, it’s probably just a small cold.”

            Peter expected Caspian to be comforted by his words, but instead, he found himself suddenly scooped up in Caspian’s arms. Caught off guard, he simply lay there against Caspian’s chest and let Caspian carry him to bed. Caspian deposited him on the sheets and then tucked the blankets around him, almost up to his chin.

            “All the more reason for you to rest,” Caspian said. He stood scowling over Peter with his hands on his hips, and Peter couldn’t help but be reminded of Susan.

            “Alright, _Mum_ ,” Peter said. It was meant to be a joke, but his voice sounded more bitter to his own ears than he had intended.

            “Forgive me for being a caring husband,” Caspian replied, his own voice coming a bit short. Peter hadn’t heard Caspian take that tone with him in quite some time.

            Peter sighed and rolled over, curling up on his side beneath the sheets and burying his head under the blankets. He expected Caspian to join him, but the bed was left empty, and Peter instead heard the muffled sounds of Caspian’s footsteps across their carpeted floor. Then he heard the sound of a wardrobe door opening, followed by a weight settling on top of him. Peter raised his head to see that Caspian had brought a large fur from their closet to spread out on the bed for extra heat.

            “Thank you, Caspian,” Peter said. He smiled up at him and asked, “Will you join me?”

            “In a moment,” Caspian said. “First, I am going to the kitchens to get you some tea. And I will tell them to bring your dinner to you here as well.”

            Peter started to say something in protest, but Caspian was gone before Peter could get out a single word. He sighed and propped his pillows up enough for him to sit upright in bed. Their room was just as quiet and cozy as ever, and yet, Peter found it brought him no comfort.

            “Aquila,” he called, and the falcon turned to gaze at Peter from his perch. Peter patted a spot on the bed next to him. _“Aquí!”_

            Aquila chirped and flitted over to the bed next to Peter. He blinked at Peter with bright, intelligent orange eyes, and only relaxed when Peter reached out to pet his feathery head with gentle fingers.

            “You know, Aquila, if I were in England right now, all my mates would think I was the coolest,” Peter told the bird. “Most boys my age only have dogs or cats for pets. Nobody has a pet falcon.”

            Aquila chittered in response and settled down next to Peter, tucking his talons beneath his body. Peter sighed and lapsed into silence as he watched Aquila nestle his head into his wing. Suddenly, he remembered what Aslan had told him that night: _Sometimes, the right thing can feel like the wrong thing. All we can do when that happens is wait for time to make it clear._ Peter wondered how much longer he would have to wait.

* * *

 

            After a few minutes of watching the fireworks, Peter decided it would be in his best interest to mingle with the other guests—after all, if he was going to be staying in Narnia, he’d need to know who was who. So he finally got his own tankard of ale and spent some time talking to people. Reepicheep was glad to bend his ear about the finer points of fencing for some time, and he even tried to get Peter to put on a demonstration match with him, until Trumpkin successfully distracted the Mouse with a well-placed dig at his reputation. Peter took advantage of the distraction and shuffled away, heading towards the staircase leading to the upper level of the courtyard. He hadn’t seen Edmund or Lucy since they’d left to look for Susan; part of him was anxious to find them again, but he forced himself to ignore that. He knew Susan was likely in no mood to see him, and he wasn’t sure if he could even handle seeing all three of them together just then. So he stopped off at the courtyard overlook and found a quiet bit of railing to lean on, where he could observe the goings-on peacefully. Peter had only been there for what felt like a minute or two, though, before he heard a familiar voice.

            “There you are!”

            Peter turned to see Caspian walking towards him. He wore a wide smile as he approached, and he held a tankard in each hand.

            “I brought you a drink,” Caspian said, before nodding at the one in Peter’s hand with a sheepish grin. “Although it seems I did not need to.”

            “Nonsense.” Peter smiled and took one of the tankards from Caspian’s hand. “This is a night for celebration. I’ll take all the drinks I can get.”

            Caspian chuckled as he took up post next to Peter, leaning against the railing alongside him.

            “I grew up hearing legends of Peter the Magnificent’s courage and caring, but never of his great propensity for drink.”

            Peter laughed at that, too.

            “Oh, shut up, you.”

            The two of them fell into a companionable quiet. Peter hurried to finish off his first drink, and once it was empty, he put it on the ground by his feet to free up his hand. He noticed Caspian’s hand resting on the railing between them. After some hesitation, Peter placed his hand on top of Caspian’s. Caspian looked up in surprise, but his expression quickly shifted to one of happiness.

            “Caspian?” Peter asked. He turned his head to watch Caspian instead of the party below.

            “Yes?”

            “What do you want to become of us?”

            Even in the low light of the moon above and the fires below, Peter could see Caspian’s face flush as his eyes went wide.

            “E-erm…” Caspian shifted and took a long drink of his ale, before asking, “What do _you_ want to become of us?”

            Peter rolled his eyes and took a step closer.

            “I asked you first.”

            Caspian was very visibly nervous now, shifting from one foot to the other, but he moved closer to Peter, too.

            “Well,” he finally said, “I am very new to the position of Narnian king. I would very much appreciate having the High King Peter at my side to guide me along.”

            “Is that all?”

            “I…” Caspian swallowed and shifted his hand, moving to intertwine his fingers with Peter’s. “And I dearly hope that he is as smitten with me as I am with him.”

            Peter smiled and set his tankard down. His hand freed, he cupped Caspian’s jaw and pulled him closer.

            “He is,” Peter whispered. He stared into the starfield of Caspian’s black eyes, and then they disappeared as Caspian closed his eyes to kiss him.

            “Will you stay?” Caspian asked, his voice soft against Peter’s lips. Peter nodded and squeezed his hand tighter.

            “Yes, Caspian. I’m staying.”

            “With me?”

            “With you.”

            Caspian finally pulled away to beam down at Peter. His smile made Peter feel warm from the inside out, and for the first time that night, he felt like he’d made the right choice after all.

* * *

 

            True to his word, Caspian returned just a few minutes later with a mug of tea in hand. He set it at the nightstand beside Peter with a smile.

            “Here you are, _mi corazón,”_ Caspian said. “It is made with honey and dryad flowers. Drink it quickly, while it is still warm.”

            Peter reached for the tea and took it with a grateful nod in Caspian’s direction. Aquila had fallen asleep on the bed next to Peter, and when Caspian noticed, he shook his head and chuckled.

            “Aquila is a bird of prey, Peter,” he said. “You should not spoil him as if he were a pet.”

            Peter shrugged, but didn’t try to pretend he was sorry.

            “I was lonely,” he said. At this, Caspian frowned. He snapped his fingers for Aquila, and when the falcon raised his head, Caspian tilted his head towards Aquila’s perch. Aquila flew back to it without a peep.

            “Then let me keep you company,” Caspian said to Peter. He pulled off his overcoat and court tunic, and when he was left in his nightshirt and breeches, he climbed into bed next to Peter and snuggled up against him. Peter smiled and wrapped his free arm around Caspian’s back as he sipped at his tea.

            “Thank you, my love.”

            “Of course,” Caspian said. He nuzzled his nose against Peter’s temple, then pressed a gentle kiss there. “Your dinner will be delivered to you here, too, so you do not need to worry about leaving bed for the rest of the day.”

            “What about the evening Council meeting?” Peter asked. Caspian laid a finger across his lips and shushed him in response.

            “I am the real king now, remember?” Caspian said. “You are just the fool who married me.”

            Peter couldn’t help laughing at that.

            “Besides,” Caspian continued, “I would rather be sure that you are getting enough rest. I cannot abide the thought of you getting sick.”

            “I love you, too,” Peter murmured. He rested his head against Caspian’s and closed his eyes, sighing deeply as he held the mug of tea in his hand.

            “Peter?” Caspian asked.

            “Hmm?”

            “I promise, this is the last time I will press you about it,” Caspian murmured. “But it truly seems as though something is weighing on your mind today… if it is something you wish to talk about, I would be happy to listen.”

            Peter gave another sigh and opened his eyes. He stared down into his mug, watching as the bits of crushed dryad petals floated around the surface of the tea. As much as he _didn’t_ want to talk about it, it was plain that Caspian knew something was bothering him, and the thought of shutting Caspian out made Peter deeply sad.

            “Well… It’s the snow,” Peter started. Caspian’s arm wound around his waist and pulled him closer, and Peter was happy to lean into Caspian’s hold.

            “What about the snow?” Caspian asked. “I thought you were excited to see it.”

            “I am,” Peter said quickly. “Or at least, I _was…_ ”

            Caspian was quiet, and Peter half-smiled to himself; it seemed Caspian had learned that was the best way to draw him out of his shell.

            “The more I was outside in the snow today, the more I thought about my family,” Peter said. “Susan and Edmund and Lucy…”

            “It did not make you happy to remember them?” Caspian asked.

            “It did at first,” Peter said. “But then it just made me miss them more…” He sighed and looked up at Caspian. “Narnia looked just like this the first time the four of us came here.”

            “Oh, Peter…” Caspian hugged Peter tighter. “I am sorry, my love. I cannot imagine what it must feel like…”

            Peter scoffed a humorless laugh. “It doesn’t feel good.”

            “I know,” Caspian murmured. “You do not have to be tough with me. Tell me how you really feel, Peter…”

            Peter took another long drink of his tea before setting it aside in favor of cuddling up to Caspian.

            “The night I decided to stay, Aslan told me that my decision would hurt, and I might not know if it was the right one or not for a very long time,” Peter said. “But with you, everything has been so wonderful, I thought it was right… But now I can’t even look at the snow outside without thinking about my siblings and wondering if I was wrong the whole time.”

            “I understand,” Caspian said. “I cannot imagine how painful it must be to be apart from them…”

            “I worry that I’ve been selfish,” Peter mumbled. He turned to bury his head fully in Caspian’s chest. “What if they’re all hurt and lost without me there to protect them? What if they hate me for abandoning them?” Something occurred to Peter then, and he suddenly clung to Caspian even tighter. “…Lion’s Mane, what about my _parents?”_

            Caspian held Peter tighter and shushed him. Peter felt Caspian’s hand move to nestle in his hair, petting it soothingly.

            “I am sure that Aslan would not have allowed you to stay here if it was truly a bad thing,” Caspian said. “I know it hurts, Peter, but I believe things will be okay… Besides, he said Edmund and Lucy will return here, did he not?”

            Peter nodded against Caspian’s chest.

            “Yes,” he said, “but when? And what about Susan?”

            Peter felt the heavy rise and fall of Caspian’s chest as he sighed.

            “I do not know, _mi corazón_ ,” he said. “I wish that I had the answers for you, but I think all we can do is keep faith.”

            “Keeping faith is hard,” Peter said.

            “Yes,” Caspian agreed, “but nobody ever said it would be easy.”

            Peter took a moment to enjoy the silence as he nestled against Caspian. Caspian’s presence was warm and comforting, and even though he still felt sad, Peter found the sadness easier to bear with Caspian there next to him.

            “I love you,” Peter whispered.

            “I love you, too, Peter,” Caspian said. “Always.”

            Peter smiled and settled in closer to Caspian. Caspian kept petting his hair, and gradually, Peter drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 

            The dream was so vivid, Peter thought, it may as well have been a memory. The four of them were seated around a table in the Castillo’s small private dining room, the same room where they had taken their final breakfast together. Peter found that his siblings looked just about the same as he remembered them. Edmund’s face was beginning to thin out a bit, and it seemed that he was growing a bit taller, but Peter wasn’t quite sure. Lucy had lost some of the baby fat in her face, too, and even Susan looked older somehow in a way Peter couldn’t place.

            “It’s so good to see all of you again,” Peter said. He smiled brightly around the table at each of his siblings in turn, his eyes finally landing on Susan’s. She offered him a small smile in return, and it even lit up her deep, sad eyes. “Please, tell me how you’ve been.”

            “I’ve been wonderful!” Lucy blurted. Her plate was piled high with hotcakes, the whole stack drowning in sliced apples and thick maple syrup. “I’ve made so many new friends at school. I’ve met the most wonderful girl, and she’s my new best friend. Every day we hang out, but I wish I could see her even more. She’s—”

            “Easy, Lu,” Susan softly said. She chuckled and reached out to place a gentle hand on Lucy’s wrist. Susan’s plate, Peter noticed, was much more modestly filled. She had a few slices of bacon, along with two hotcakes and a smattering of sliced fruit.

            “Everything is the same as ever,” Susan said. “I would say that looking after these two has kept me on my toes, but truthfully, Edmund has stepped up quite a bit lately.”

            “Really?” Peter asked. He turned to regard Edmund with a smile.

            “It’s true,” Edmund said, and Peter was thrilled to notice the subtle sort of pride that suffused Edmund’s demeanor as he said it. “Mum and Dad let me run all the errands now, and I’ve even heard them talking about transferring me into an all-boys’ school after hols.”

            “Ed, that’s great!” Peter said. He leaned over to nudge Edmund with his elbow and to drop an extra slice of toast on his plate. “I’m so proud of all of you.”

            “What about you, dear brother?” Susan asked. She raised an eyebrow at Peter and gave him a quiet smile.

            “Oh, me?” Peter shrugged and speared a forkful of the egg on his plate. After taking a bite of it, he continued, “It’s wintertime here in Narnia. We’ve started rebuilding Cair Paravel, and Ettinsmoor hasn’t tried to attack us just yet…”

            Peter felt the eyes of his three siblings on him, watching him expectantly, and he sighed.

            “I miss you all very terribly,” he admitted.

            “Aww, Peter!”

            Lucy sprang up from her chair and came to envelop Peter in a hug.

            “We miss you too, you big oaf,” she said. Peter laughed and returned the hug—and to his pleasant surprise, Edmund and Susan stood up and came over to join the hug too.

            “Please come back soon,” Peter whispered.

            “We will,” Edmund replied, and Lucy nodded.

            “As soon as we can.”

            Over the heads of their younger siblings, Peter and Susan locked eyes.

            “I’ll be there in spirit,” Susan said. Peter nodded and felt the tears begin to well up in his eyes.

            “I love you, Su,” he said. “I miss you every day.”

            “I love you, too, Peter.”

            Then the dream faded, and Peter woke up alone in his bed in the Castillo. Caspian was nowhere to be seen—he must have left for the Council meeting, Peter reasoned. Still, despite being alone, Peter found he didn’t feel nearly as lonely as he had before.

            His family would return to him. He would wait as long as he had to, and he wouldn’t lose his faith.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not normally one to do this type of thing, but if you read this fic and enjoyed it, PLEASE let me know with a comment or even just a kudo! I've been very hard at work on this piece for over a month now, and I'm thrilled to finally be putting it out into the world.
> 
> I make no promises as to when it will happen, as my life is very dreadfully busy lately, but I have plans to revise Edmund's chapter of the Rewards series as well, in order to bring it up to a literary level roughly equal to this one. I have also begun preliminary work on Lucy's chapter, just to reassure you all that I haven't abandoned this series!


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